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Chapter 2: A Mad Tea Party with A-joke (thatís her name, siriusly)
by savoed at the-dark-arts
Chapter Two: A Mad Tea Party with A-joke (that’s her name, seriously)
My face scrunched up in disgust; this was a horrible joke. At first, I felt flattered, wonderfully fly high in the sky, and oh-so-tough for a second because I was someone’s weakness. A boy’s weakness.
But as I thought about it, the words on the piece of parchment were blatant lies. I’m not beautiful, I may be pretty or cute (even that’s a stretch). I’m short, thin, platinum blonde hair, blue eyes, pale, I look a little sick all the time. I don’t mind, nor am I bothered, I just not going to be delusional and tell myself I’m going to be a centrefold, instead I’ll tell myself that I can be a princess.
I scrunched the paper up and left it on the desk. I wouldn’t let a cruel prank get to me. As soon as we got out of the classroom, Cal began to squeal.
“You have a secret admirer, this is so romantic. Who do you think it is? Ah! This is perfect,” she waffled.
I kept quiet, looking down at my hands.
“Why aren’t you happy? I’m being happy for you. You’re wasting my energy, being squealy and energetic is difficult,” Cal said, quickly dropping the high-pitched tone.
“I don’t think it’s serious, this is way too farfetched and too tacky to be any boy that I know,” I said, trying my hardest to be realistic.
We walked up the stairs and Cal kept poking into the matter.
“Why are you such a cynic? You’ve always said you wanted something cheesily romantic to happen to you, why are you passing up on your opportunity?” she asked.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’d love for all this to be real, but I’m trying to realistic and this is not fez-, feasible,” I huffed.
I bit the inside of my cheek, waiting for her response.
“Please don’t try and become a realist, you spend your nights cuddled up to a Fifi LaFolle book, wishing that the nonsense she writes to come true. Realism makes you blind to the real world, because you only rely on your brain and your senses. And you’re brain isn’t particularly functional.”
I love Cal, I really do, but she’s such a bitch-squealer. She really is.
I love love. I love the idea that you can feel an indescribable emotion towards someone, I love the idea that you can be a hundred percent yourself around someone, that you can trust them with your deepest darkest secrets and not fear what they think of you, because they love to thinking about you. I like the idea that there will be someone I can cuddle to sleep, someone who will always be there.
I love that dictionaries can’t even describe what it actually is, that they struggle and come up with statements like ‘a passionate affection for another person’, which means you could probably love everyone in entire planet, with a definition like that even hatred could be considered a form of love.
I love the concept, the idea of love. And that’s where the sceptism begins, what if love is just an idea? What if it’s just a concept?
I desperately want to fall in love, believe in love, and just be in love. But I’m just not so sure that it actually exists? I mean, I don’t actually know what it is when you think about it and I think about it all the time.
The day hammered on, quickly becoming monotonous and painful. My inability to cast simple spells plagued me throughout Transfiguration; I’m not particularly good at casting spells, or doing anything with my wand. That’s why when I chose my NEWTs I quickly dropped Charms and Defence, because they rely on wand work too much.
Another problem that bothered me throughout the day, or, you know, my whole life, was and is my inability to concentrate. I always seem to get swept into a fantasy that some charming boy or prince will come and rescue me. I imagined myself falling down the stairs only to be caught by a wonderful prince, with seeker like reflexes, who then proceeds to kiss me passionately.
Also, thoughts of note boy (I refused to call him ‘secret admirer’) hovered in my mind, his message flashing in my head every time I closed my eyes.
Sometimes I get so lost with you, that I forget to do important things, like, I don’t know, graduate Hogwarts with some actual N.E.W.Ts. So, do me a favour and leave me alone.
I was trudging back from the common room alone from the greenhouses, alone, since Cal and Jordan had refused to take Herbology with me. Cal had said she couldn’t see how planting seeds constituted as a proper subject and Jordan had said that she really couldn’t handle one more year of getting bitten and bruised by plants. What was I even saying? Oh, as I was trudging along miserably, Fred Weasley came along to talk to me.
I tried not to squeal. ‘Oh my god, you’re talking to me, you’re actually talking to me out of your own free will, now shut up and kiss me.’
“Hey Lonnie, what’s up?” he asked casually.
“Not much,” I squeaked.
I have no social skills.
“Are you going to Jordan’s tea party?” he asked.
“Yes, are you?”
“Yep, Jordan invited Robin, James and I, and if I’m not mistaken James is bringing his girlfriend,” he said. He spoke with such ease that it gave me the courage to reply.
Fred Weasley is extremely friendly. He’d never spoken to me before; the only reason he was speaking to me was I was his best friend’s new stepsister’s best friend (it’s a lot simpler than it sounds, really). My stomach twisted at the thought, he’s never actually wanted to speak to me. I wasn’t interesting. I was plain; I was boring. I was blank canvas; he was a Claude Monet.
Oh and just to let you know, if it wasn’t obvious by know, I had a massive crush on Fred Weasley.
He continued to speak.. Why on earth had Jordan done that? Jordan’s tea parties were supposed to be our special thing, just us three, chatting about boys, feeling immaturely mature sipping on tea like stuck-up purebloods, when we’re all half-bloods, so we can revel in the irony.
“So, are the tea parties good? I’ve never actually been to one. I don’t drink tea, hate the stuff,” he laughed.
I laughed along with him to fill the empty silence; he had this tone in his voice that just made you want to laugh with him. It was a bit like spattergroit, it was infectious and however much you didn’t want to catch it, you did anyway.
“They’re fun,” I said, smiling up at him - he towered over me.
Despite being completely smitten with him, he had a strange ability to make you feel comfortable. A bit like a siren’s lure, like you wanted to just blurt out how much you really wanted to hug him.
“Jordan bakes like mad, she’s absolutely amazing at baking,” I’d begun to ramble, “I could marry y-, her cooking, it’s just that good.”
I made a quick save. I could have been a keeper, if I was in any good at Quidditch. Or flying.
Genuinely, with all my heart and my stupidity, I think I was about to say ‘I could marry you’. Either he didn’t catch it, or he’s just too friendly to pick at my blunder. I kept my guard up from then on, keeping my replies short and simple. I’d been doing so well up to then, I was talking to a guy. Why did my brain have to screw it up? Maybe Cal was right, maybe my brain wasn’t fully functional.
Out of all the romantic clichés, my favourite is falling in love with your best friend. There’s something about it that just works, maybe it’s because you’ve known that person a good portion of your life, that you know each other well, maybe it’s the fact you understand each other, that you know what all of their mannerisms mean and maybe it’s a culmination of all of those things and more.
I love the idea of suddenly noticing that you don’t want that person to just be there anymore, you want them to be right next to you. And I think that’s magical.
And as for other clichés, I mean forbidden lovers, really? We all know that’s really not going to end well, Romeo and Juliet was a disaster.
And falling in love with your stepbrother, that’s not cool at all. It’s practically incest and you know, just plain weird. I admit that falling in love with your brother’s best friend is sweet, but I wouldn’t touch any of Adam’s friends, they’re creepy people. The geek and the hot guy? I’m not a geek, a dork perhaps, but certainly not a geek. It’s adorable, but it’s just not for me.
None of them ever feel as right as falling in love with your best friend, it’s so predictable, it’s so cute, it’s ridiculously romantic, it’s the mother of all clichés.
And I want it; I want to fall in love with my male best friend. It’s just that I’m so awkward around the opposite sex; I don’t even have one male friend.
So, explain to me how this is going to work?
The tea party was just starting and it was already a disaster. Jordan was the bridge between our two groups, with her absence (in the other part of the kitchen) the atmosphere was more stifled than that of train ride. Cal didn’t like any of the boys; she believed that they were far too arrogant and as a prefect,of course she was going to hate the school’s pranksters. Cal had said that she had deduced they were attention-seeking prats with the aid of a posteriori reasoning because of the pranks they pull.
I don’t have a clue what she’s on about. I guess that’s what you get when your best friend is a nihilist.
Fred, once again decided to break the tension, “Hey James, where is she, I could really do with a laugh right now?”
Robin burst out laughing and Fred joined in quickly. James, who seemed to be the quiet one, did not laugh and ignored his cousin.
Feeling my best friend senses tingling, I immediately locked eyes with Cal. I knew exactly what she was saying. This was some inside joke of theirs.
Robin was the first to notice and quickly tried to make amends, “he’s just probing at the fact that James’ girlfriend is called-.”
He was cut off, “What’s my name, Robin?” she said sweetly, but you could hear the venom dripping out of her voice. She immediately took the chair next to James and politely introduced herself as AJ.
Jordan followed in shortly after with an apple pie in her hands. My mouth watered in desperation.
“Sorry, you didn’t need to wait for me you can eat,” Jordan said, with an ever present smile on her face.
Everybody grabbed the biscuits and I went straight for the custard creams.
“You know I have this theory that the cheaper the custard cream the nicer it tastes,” Robin said between bites.
“That’s stupid,” AJ quipped.
Jordan glanced at Cal, who then glanced at me.
It hadn’t taken long to notice the obviously strained relationship between James’s girlfriend and Robin. James didn’t speak; he kept his lips on his mug of coffee.
“What does AJ actually stand for?” Cal asked her.
I turned to AJ, and made a mental list of how pretty she was: she had dark skin, large dark brown eyes and long luscious black hair.
“It’s the first two letters of my name,” she replied curtly.
“That’s because her name’s a joke,” Robin said in an impression of her voice.
I pinched myself not to laugh, stuffed another custard cream in my mouth, bravely took a glance at Fred, and tried super hard not to blush when he smiled at me.
He was ma tru luv 4eva, I was sure of it.
Cal not satisfied with the answer, turned back to AJ, who had seemed to be sitting extremely close to James, shoulder rubbing and all, which made me feel a pang of jealousy. Why couldn’t I be exotic and beautiful looking like her? Why couldn’t I have a boyfriend like her?
“My name is A-jock-ay,” she pronounce clearly, “It’s Yoruba for ‘the one we will take care of’, unfortunately for me it’s spelt like the word joke with an ‘a’ in front.”
She sounded haughty. It made me uncomfortable.
James piped into the conversation for a first, “At least your middle name doesn’t sound like the word serious.”
I’d never heard his voice before, it wasn’t as deep or alluring like Fred’s, it was slightly higher but there was something about it that kept you on your toes.
And that’s when I realized I had yet to speak a word and suddenly my mouth was full of words. “So your couple name could be Siriusly Joking.”
I wasn’t trying to be funny. I swear to God I wasn’t, but suddenly everyone on the table erupted into a raucous laugh, except for Ajoke (I will forever mentally call her a-joke).
I began to blush furiously and ran my hands through my hair. It’s not my fault that I am insanely witty, sometimes it just comes out. I am cursed. I may be quiet, but I am so dramatic. Another unrealistic character trait I have; I am an anomaly of Mother Nature. Isn’t that fantastic?
“Well, who wants apple pie?” Jordan clapped her hands together in a motherly fashion and served me out a slice without asking, because it goes without saying that I want apple pie.
Nobody else seemed interested.
“Really, nobody wants apple pie, I thought people loved apple pie, it’s the pie of all pies,” she said, with a tiny upset tinge in her voice.
“I’m sorry, I’m allergic to apples,” AJ (wait, a joke) said.
“Oh, my gosh me too,” Cal burst out.
And thus began a pseudo-friendship based on their complicated allergies. I swear to god Cal is allergic to everything.
“What about pineapple? I break out with rashes down my face,” Cal asked.
“Same!” AJ squealed, proving that she could do the girly scream that was required for a momentous occasion like this: finding someone who has the same allergies as you.
James took the opportunity to serve himself a slice of apple pie.
“Jordan, is that the same chocolate cake you made last time?” Robin asked eagerly, pointing at the untouched chocolate cake that was in middle of the kitchen table.
“It is,” Jordan confirmed.
“I need a slice now.”
Jordan looked at him with a vacant expression on her face, she always did this when she was waiting for you to finish what you were saying.
“I need a slice, please,” he begged.
Robin literally smashed the pieces into his face and we all watched in bewilderment.
After his last bite, he said, “I want to have sex with your baking skills.”
We all started laughing and Jordan blushed at the compliment. It was like we were friends, but we weren’t, not quite, not at all, really.
“I think he’s gone into a food coma,” I said quietly.
“He has,” James agreed.
And suddenly, we all fell back into an awkward silence. We all knew the only reason we were together was because of Robin and Jordan, who weren’t even comfortable with each other yet.
My stomach began to churn as the conversation picked up again.
“I’m allergic to bananas, are you?” Cal asked AJ.
I clutched my stomach in pain.
“I can’t eat bananas, they automatically make me vomit.”
Oh Merlin, why did she have to say the word vomit?
As I stood up my chair grated the kitchen floor with a nasty blood-curling noise, my lukewarm tea spilt on the table and all over Cal. If my stomach hadn’t been hurting so badly, I would have probably been murmuring profuse apologies to Cal.She was furious and shrieking and I felt extremely embarrassed.
“I feel sick, I need fresh air,” I declared.
“I’ll come with you, your face has turned a nasty shade of green,” Fred said as he stood up. Being a suave person, he didn’t make the horrid noise as he stood up.
I don’t think I’ve ever been grateful for having a highly vascularized face. It was getting me time with ma tru luv. He was chivalrous, charming, and good-looking. He was perfect. He was insanely out of my league.
A/N: Second chapter! What did you think? Don’t worry Fred isn’t perfect (far from); Lonnie’s only just met him and has a massive crush on him.
Notes:The name Ajoke is a real name, pronounced as explained in this chapter, it’s a Yoruba name from the West African country Nigeria.
Claude Monet was a famous artist, at the forefront of impressionism. (This is kind of important)
Cal (or Lonnie in reference to Cal) refers to a couple of philosophical/intellectual stuff in this chapter:
-Realism is the philosophy of the mind that claims that the senses provide us with direct awareness of the external world.
-A nihilist is (in the simplest meaning) is a person who believes life has no objective meaning, which makes her unbearably sceptical.
-And a posteriori reasoning is that from experience (i.e. seeing the boys prank and revelling in the attentions) you can deduce knowledge/facts/the truth (the boys are attention seeking prats).
I know some of these terms are used jarringly and awkwardly, but Lonnie doesn’t have a clue about these things, she’s just throwing words out, because she’s heard other people use them. She’s not smart.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry potter, which is the intellectual property of JKR. The dictionary definition is from my Collins dictionary.
Please review, they inspire me to write quickly. ♥